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Post Offices, Bob Boon
7 Mar 2014
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We saw evidence of the once-happier postal service in a couple places.  In the Altenburg Museum, one display had a collection of the hand-canceling stamps, various letters that had come through, account sheets, and a photo of one of the last, long-term employees.  Nearby, there was an old postal carriage, with its spindly old wheels and a stovepipe on the side, perhaps a portable coal-stove for those icy roads, though I managed only to take a blurry photo.

            At Brazeau, there was still the old post office building.  I peered in the empty room, which still had two counters and an old rocker sitting there, no longer rocking.  One of our Brazeau guides told us that the town, well, never quite an incorporated town, had lost its official post office long ago, but that they had managed to speak up enough to keep their zip code (I looked it up—63737, which seems like a lucky number).

            I guess I’m fond of post office stories, since when I was growing up, my grandparents were the post master and assistant post master of Franklin, Missouri, and I would spend hours playing with the ink pads or gazing at the rows of stamps, or roller-skating through the post office, connected to the general store, connected to the “front room” with the TV, connected to the kitchen, where Harry Truman used to stop for coffee in times a little before me.  And there was that old safe, for the store and post office both, with my great-grandfather’s name painted in gold above the door, which I loved, since it’s also my name.  Wish I knew where that safe wound up.  But then, these are stories for another time.

Photo Courtesy of: Bob Boon

 

Tags
Historical Local Missouri Post_Office
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